


In Which She Lives

by SurelyHeavenWaits



Series: What Might Have Been [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:26:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurelyHeavenWaits/pseuds/SurelyHeavenWaits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night air is cool as she makes her last stand, watching as those damn boys dive into that car without her. Killing him will be worth it, she tells herself even as she feels an emotion she hasn't felt in lifetimes. So long ago that she barely recognizes it. Betrayal, or maybe bitter acceptance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which She Lives

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was sadly disappointed (then outraged and am now in a state of tentative acceptance) at the abrupt end of one of my favorite ships and started writing this to cope. This series is a collection of short one shots which can also be found on my tumblr (surelyheavenwaits) and additions to this story will probably be updated there first. Updates will not be regular, and I apologize in advance, but I have two kids and babysit two more so my muse only gets let out of her cage at night.

The night air is cool as she makes her last stand, watching as those damn boys dive into that car without her. Killing him will be worth it, she tells herself even as she feels an emotion she hasn’t felt in lifetimes. So long ago that she barely recognizes it. Betrayal, or maybe bitter acceptance. Either way, she forces herself to nod at the moose, and she hopes he’ll do as she asked him. There’s a sinking feeling in her meatsuit’s stomach though, because the fact that she’s standing here alone is proof that the Winchesters use and then ditch people who no longer serve a purpose, and if they discard their hunter friends, what chance does a demon have? Especially one guilty of unleashing the hell hounds that killed their friends. They’re not exactly known for their forgiveness or their leniency.

Crowley turns as the car starts and she taunts him, pointing out the lack of the angel in the backseat as she ignores the way her heart breaks when they peel out, leaving her behind. Its stupid, she knows. But she expected more. She’s dead now anyway, time to stop lying to herself. Her meatsuit is battered and weak but she still lunges, knowing before she does it that she’s going to miss her target, her body’s too weak to do any real damage. The knife embeds in his shoulder, infuriating him and she takes grim satisfaction from his furious expression. He catches her off guard as he retaliates, and she can’t move out of the way in time to avoid the killing blow.

The sharp pain of the blade digging deep into her meatsuit is nothing compared to everything she’s been through, and she expects to die quickly. _Shoulda fucked you while I had the chance, Castiel_ , she thinks as she falls. As far as last words go, its lame but so many images are flooding her dying brain. It’s the only time she’s ever used his name.

In a Biggerson lobby half a country away, he freezes. His heart seizes as a fissure of agony slices through the vulnerable organ and he clutches at his chest, unaware of how to ease the human emotion. His urgent mission to hide the angel tablet is forgotten and he reacts instinctively as he hears her voice in his head.

He is at her side before she hits the ground, frantically pressing his hand to the wound that is gushing blood. He isn’t sure how but he grabs her mutilated, thorny soul before it can be pulled to wherever it is that God sends them and shoves it back within her damaged vessel. His Grace rushes over her body, burning brilliantly against the writhing shadows of her soul as it twists and yanks away from the purity of his Grace. He fights her, he’s filled with desperation and he refuses to let her go.

He’s unaware that he begs his Father for his assistance but somewhere, the cowardly being bows his head. It takes little effort for him to soothe the tortured soul, letting the burn of his Holy Fire envelope the forbidden lovers and wash over their souls. He heals her, cleans her soul. It’s the least he can do for one who has tried so hard, no matter how spectacularly he has failed, and Castiel has always been one of his favorites.

She comes to awareness with a heaving gasp, jerking upright as her body convulses in a warm embrace. The arms are holding her too tightly but she doesn’t fight, she can’t. She’s confused, disoriented and deliciously warm. She feels lighter than she can ever remember. The ground isn’t frigidly cold anymore, or she’s too lost to notice. He’s whispering gratefully in her ear, not really speaking to her but murmuring profuse thanks as he rocks her like a child. He’s pulled her up onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her like he’s never letting her go again. He’s never known such joy that it overflows but his cheek is wet against hers as his murmurs switch from thanks to love.

There’s a barbed comment on the tip of her tongue, something witty about how he took his time, but she bites it down, reveling in his love. The thorny shadows of her soul twists around his Grace like a contented cat as she presses kiss after kiss to the sweat drenched skin of his neck, tasting the remnants of the salt and tang of her blood. He doesn’t notice at first, so lost in the spinning thoughts he isn’t used to having that it takes almost a full minute before he turns his head to capture her lips with his own. He kisses her with the same frantic desperation that he just tried to heal her with, his hands gripping her too tightly, biting harshly into her meatsuit’s much softer skin. She doesn’t mind, she’s biting his bottom lip with just as much desperation, twisting in his lap to curl her legs around his back and pressing as close as humanly possible to him. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she moans breathlessly against the force of his lips, rocking hard against the bulge in his pants.

"So I guess we didn’t need to come back after all," the gruff voice shocks her, and if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she thinks she might have jumped back so fast she would have flown. Her chest heaves as she opens lust blown eyes to glance at the Winchesters, one smirking as he winks and the other smiling with relief. Her heart expands as she realizes they came back. For her, they came back for her.

"I suppose this is awkward," Castiel says in agreement, his voice ragged and he is heaving just as hard as she is as he rests his head on her shoulder.

"You two wanna get in the car before Crowley decides to come back or y’all going to make out all night?"

"I would stand but that might be even more awkward."

Meg hums in feminine satisfaction as both Winchesters turn tail and sprint back to the Impala. She waits until they are pointedly looking anywhere but at her and Castiel before standing, and she smirks at him as he awkwardly shifts the front of his pants when he rolls to his feet beside her. He doesn’t let go of her, not even when they squeeze into the back seat, he molds himself to her side as if he’s afraid to let her go.

"We couldn’t just leave," Dean replies to her questioning gaze in the rear view mirror, after they’ve driven in silence for several miles.

"You’ve helped us more than most," Sam adds, and he’s thinking of their conversation before her stand off with Crowley, among all the other times she has helped Team Free Will. She nods in acceptance, both of their statements and the things left unsaid. Castiel presses a wet kiss to her neck, and she laughs at how she’s corrupted him. He bites down in reply, sending flames to the knot building in the bottom of her stomach. This feeling is pleasant, unlike before when she faced off against Crowley, which feels like decades ago instead of not even an hour ago. She feels like she belongs, really belongs, for the first time she can remember. She feels like part of the family.


End file.
